


Opportunity makes the thief

by Ruta



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruta/pseuds/Ruta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a gentleman thief and she is the inspector who want to hand him over to the law.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opportunity makes the thief

"Communication to the operating room. 10-66 in area’s Bank of England. All agents in service went on the spot. Possible 10-14 at gunpoint. I repeat -" Greg gave her a tight smile. "We have caught him, Molly. This time is ours." Then he continued the transmission.

Molly drew out her Webley from its sheath. She pressed the button to open the cylinder, cocked the revolver, inserted cartridges and shut again the cylinder.

Everything under Greg’s hawk eyes.

"Still with that rusty old thing, Molly? When are you going to give it to a museum? Seriously, it's out of production for decades now.” He shook his head with an air of lecture. “You’ll have to give in, sooner or later. Look at my Beretta. Here's a girl to whom I would entrust my life."

Molly fondled the grip on which the engraved initial ‘RAH’ were disappeared. It was scratched and consumed; the frame and the barrel had become of a glossy and worn black. She frowned. "It belonged to my father and before him it belonged to my grandfather. There are two generations of Hooper who owe their lives to it. Three, if you count mine too. Don’t talk about old-fashioned, Greg. Not with me, not when you talk about my gun."

He turned one’s eyes to heaven, but it didn’t bother her. She continued to gaze at the rain beating on the window of the passenger compartment, the world gray and black beyond the layer of water lashing.

 

* * *

 

"Rest where you are and hands up!" A female voice commanded in a dry tone.

Her quick steps resounded in a ghostly echo along the marble floor, against the great pilasters framing the entrance in stores.

The light was growing fainter. Seen through the skylight’s structure of iron and glass, the sky was leaden and scattered with storm clouds.

The thief turned around with a sparkling glance of his blue-eyed. He was apparently unarmed. He wore a haute couture and leather moccasins. Even at ten paces away, the smell of cigarettes was painfully familiar. _Dunhill_ _._

He made a gallant bow and gave a dazzle of his simper to the petite woman who was proceeding in the atrium of the deserted bank. "Chief Inspector", saluted, impeccable. "Should I feel honored? I thought the new position – by the way: congratulations for your promotion - would curb your desire to be at the forefront.”

Molly released the safety catch and aimed the Webley at him. Even she had him under fire, his smile didn’t undergo changes. He seemed more pleased than intimidated. "Good try, but this time it's the end. We knew that you would have attempted the target here. The predictability has brought you to ruin. Raise your hands and keep them in view." Molly breathed a vibrant sigh. "Sherlock Holmes, you are under arrest for crimes of unlawful carrying of weapons, misappropriation of artwork and theft -" She broke off to the muffled sound that came from him, like... "Are you _laughing_?"

"I beg your pardon." He removed from face the hands with which he had attempted to conceal the inappropriate burst of hilarity. "But really, Inspector, I expected better." His smile became irregular, pointed; it was the mocking and ironical smile of a wolf. "What makes you think that I'm alone?"

"I have four patrols around the area and placed snipers ready to intervene."

Sherlock nodded, calculating. "Certainly, Inspector and you're here with me." He moved his hands, waving them. "No handcuffs, see? Free, until one has prove to the contrary."

"It's your last chance, Holmes. I will not say it again. Put your hands up."

"I cannot do that, Inspector." His right eye - of a piercing and changeable blue-electric - trembled imperceptibly.

Molly lowered abruptly, before a warning shot failed and a grenade compacted in the space between them. ("On the ground, Molly! Down! Down!" Greg shouted in the earphone. He hurled a curse. "Don’t do anything. We’re entering.")

Sherlock was already wearing a gas mask. He was staring on her with inscrutableness beyond the glasses, then nodded and the sniper in a mezzanine threw the second grenade.

Molly cursed. In the smokescreen of first, she saw that it was a flash bang.

 

* * *

 

 

Greg insisted that she sat and was visited by the medical team.

Molly wanted to thank him, really, but his concern was flowing into nagging. She rubbed her temples and the dizziness became vague, nuanced. "We must inform, Noble.” It was the first thing she said, as she marched to the access doors.

Greg looked puzzled.

"Holmes knew that the position of Chief Inspector was offered to me," continued Molly. "He congratulated."

Greg stopped her as she was walking down the entrance stairway, grabbing her by the elbow. "But you haven’t accepted the promotion."

Molly sighed. "That's why he congratulated."

"How do you figure out him so well? That man is a blasted Egg of Columbus."

"It's part of his charm."

"You always had a questionable taste for the macabre. So… moles. Bloody infiltrates in the Interpol." Greg shook his head. "Damn, I'm not saying that I wouldn’t miss you, but you deserve that position and the same you have refused and for what?"

"In order to do my job."

"Bollocks. What would your father say?"

Molly stalled the left foot on step up, she turned to look at him. "Well done, my girl." She smiled. "He always hated being the Chief. He said it takes away all the fun."

Scotland Yard had already cordoned off the scene. From afar, Molly exchanged a greeting with the DI Donovan.

On the square outside, she realized that she was still holding the Webley. She tilted it, pushed on the extractor and checked that chambers were actually empty. They were.

 

 

* * *

 

  

The bedroom’s window was open. A man stood motionless in the shadows.

The man in black walked in, expecting to be threatened by the barrel of a gun or that she threw something at him.

The woman in the bed didn’t move. She continued to look at him.

The man stared back with piercing blue-green eyes that made him legendary, emblematic mark of the sharp mind maneuvering them. He seemed like a lethal predator, and in fact Sherlock Holmes had always possessed, for ways and appearance, something feline.

The curtains open let it rain inside the room a wave of moonlight, white and powdery. Those rays settled on his colorless skin, in a delightful contrast with ink’s hair.

Sherlock walked over to the bed with stealthy step and if Molly hadn’t seen him move previously, she wouldn’t have noticed his presence. He kicked off his shoes and lay down beside her. He unbuttoned his jacket.

Molly gave him space. "I didn’t expect you."

He turned to her. "I didn’t expect you to do it."

"A surprise? You?" Molly smiled. "I thought you hated clichés."

Sherlock touched her throat with fingertips. "Despite my personal position on the matter, I am often a victim myself, but for reasons entirely rational, that deserve such a waste of energy."

"And self-respect," retorted Molly.

Both moved to a more comfortable position. Molly laid her head on his chest and he began to stroke her hair, a gesture completely natural and therefore even more remarkable considering the subject. They stayed in silence, immersed in their own flow of thoughts.

He was the first to break it. "I didn’t aspect you'd come," he said in a tone that she couldn’t decipher. "It caught me by surprise, I have to admit."

He was referring to the bank robbery.

"You knew they offered me my father’s position."

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. He brushed his lips against her temple. "After the sensational case Moriarty it would have been foolish for them not to. Foolish even by their standards."

Molly pinched his arm.

He stifled a protest. "I was surprised that you’ve refused," continued soon after.

"Why?"

"It would be the perfect solution. You are an Inspector, it’s in your blood. That kind of loyalty cannot be stifle." For a moment he stopped touching her hair.

"No," Molly replied, tracing the edge of his shirt’s buttonhole. "It wouldn’t be the perfect solution. I would have to drastically reduce hours of patrol and the administrative part has never been my _forte_. Also, I would have to stop hunting you."

"The Wembley was empty today."

"You’ve noticed."

"And you say that you want to chase me. You, Inspector, are totally an unreasonable, queer fellow."

"According to what the thief who threaded into watchdog’s den said." Molly tilted her neck to see his face and Sherlock lifted a corner of his mouth in the shadow of a smile.

"You're going to hunt me for a lifetime, Miss Hooper?"

"As long as I will not take you, Sherlock Holmes."

And that's not even remotely sounded like a threat or a promise, it was just a stand and a declaration of purposes.

 

* * *

 

 

If someone had asked to the Inspector Molly Hooper as it had happened that she had fallen in love with a world-famous fugitive thief, she wouldn’t know what to say.

Maybe from the very beginning of her career that catching the thief, the urge to arrest him, had only been the origin of a hunting much more intimate and personal, a metaphor for what had led her to discover the man.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. It’s a folly, foolish idea, but yesterday night I wasn’t able to sleep because of this. If you can, close an eye and forgive the inconclusiveness of a poor sleepless. In my mind there is a Chief Inspector of INTERPOL (Arthur Randall Hooper) who hunt the thief par excellence (Sherlock Holmes) and his gang (John & Mary Watson), helped by his pupil (Greg Lestrade) and his daughter (Molly Hooper) who has always wanted to follow in his footsteps. A lot like Lupin III and Batman/Gordon.  
> I hope it was a pleasant reading.  
> P.s.: just for curiosity e for good pace of a scrupulous conscience, would anyone like to be my beta? I realize that my English is not so good and read it, sometimes, must be an agony. Vocabulary or not :)


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